


Even Lovers Drown

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Misunderstandings, Multi, Reverse Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariadne fell in love with dreaming and building, and was determined to stay within the business as best as she could. Falling in love with Arthur and Eames shouldn't have made that more difficult to do.</p><p> </p><p>Written for the 2013 Reverse Bang in response to piece #203 by beautifulweddin. Incorporates the prompt <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/20822.html?thread=51360598#t51360598">Eames has always used forging as his totem. Concerned that Ariadne, new to dreaming, is being taught to rely on something that failed Cobb so miserably (a physical totem of reality), he takes over her tutelage and has her use her ability to fold architecture as hers.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Swimming Lad

A mermaid found a swimming lad,  
Picked him for her own,  
Pressed her body to his body,  
Laughed; and plunging down,  
Forgot in cruel happiness  
That even lovers drown.  
\- "The Mermaid" by W. B. Yeats

 

 

Ariadne knew Robert Fischer had accepted the suggestions planted. The way he carried himself as he clambered up onto the riverbank was different, and he didn't lean toward Peter Browning's image quite so much. She had just as much confidence in Dom coming back from limbo as promised. There had been grief in his eyes, but the desperation was gone. Arthur believed her, not just because he wanted to, but because he trusted her intuition. Arthur was good at details and logic, at seeing the larger picture results within the pattern of minutiae. He didn't have the intuitive sense about people that Ariadne did, which alternately irritated and thrilled him. He couldn't verify her data points directly, but it gave him a whole other set to play with.

It was only when they were ensconced in a hiding place on the first level that Ariadne tested her bishop and Arthur tested his die. They had their backs to each other so that neither could discern the secret to verify if they were dreaming or not; Arthur had insisted on it even though she was certain they were still dreaming. "You were in limbo," Arthur told her, not quite able to meet her eyes. "I know where I was, but you went farther down than is safe. Just check."

They stayed together over the next six days, talking about everything and nothing. It was on the third day when Ariadne finally brought up the kiss on the second level. Arthur's lips quirked. "I couldn't help it. I had an opportunity, so I took it."

Ariadne crowded into him and seized his mouth in a fevered kiss. "This is how it should be done," she told him, grinning. Arthur opened his mouth to make a retort, and Ariadne kissed him again. Mouths still fused together, she crawled over his lap, straddling his waist. He held her steady, tongue in her mouth. "This is taking advantage of the opportunity," she murmured when she pulled back to draw a breath.

"I didn't want to presume..."

"Presume away."

Arthur slowly peeled her clothes away from her body, and he kept his eyes locked to hers the entire time. The light touches where his fingers brushed against her skin made Ariadne's breath catch. She couldn't help but grin, seeing that even in this he could be methodical as well. Ariadne threaded her fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. "I'm not fragile," she murmured, grinning at him.

"I didn't think you were," Arthur replied, lips quirked slightly. His eyes crinkled a little at the corners, and he leaned forward to brush a gentle kiss to the valley between her breasts. "This should be savored." Another soft kiss. "Drawn out." He turned his head slightly and brushed his lower lip across the rise of one breast, just above the edge of her bra. "Something memorable."

"Can we have that later?" she gasped, running her fingers down the nape of his neck.

"We can go fast later," Arthur murmured, moving slowly and deliberately. Ariadne wanted to rip his shirt open, sending buttons flying. She wanted to push him onto his back on the floor and ride him hard, until he was a gasping, sputtering mess. She wanted him incoherent and nearly sobbing with want, arching up into her and feeling as though his tidy little world had shattered as he came. But she could follow his lead in this, see where he took it. It wouldn't do to scare him away, when he was only just starting to unwind around her.

He chuckled when she couldn't get the buttons on his shirt through fast enough, then caught her hands in his. "It's not a contest," he said, pulling her down for a kiss. When he let go of her hands, he palmed her breasts and shifted on the couch. She followed the unspoken directions, but lost her balance and dragged Arthur with her. They ended up sprawled across the floor, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"If this _was_ a contest, I'd've just lost points for that swan dive," she laughed, shrugging out of her shirt and bra. Arthur laughed along with her, hovering over her on his hands and knees. She took the opportunity to get all of his buttons undone, pushing his shirt over his shoulders.

Arthur took her hint and took off his shirt before lowering himself down to kiss her chest and then suckle on a breast. Ariadne held onto him, gasping and moaning as he moved over her with that same deliberate slowness. When he shifted position slightly to get a hand down to her jeans, she couldn't help but say "Yes, finally," with a gleeful tone. He laughed again, letting her help him undo the button, then slid his hand inside her panties. Curling his fingers into her damp slit, he started working her with his fingers. "Arthur..."

Ariadne was lost in the sensation of his mouth over hers, his fingers inside her, the feel of his muscles moving beneath her hands. He tested what made her moan with need, what set her writhing and scratching at his back, what made her arch and squeeze her eyes shut tight. When his fingers didn't seem to be quite enough, he moved to take off her jeans and panties, then put his mouth to her center, licking and nipping at the damp flesh. Ariadne nearly howled in pleasure when he sucked on her clit, two fingers stretching her. She reached for him, but he was teasingly just out of reach, determined to get her soaking wet before he thrust into her for the first time.

Fucking her with his lips and tongue and fingers, he seemed utterly tireless. She writhed and moaned beneath his mouth, clutching at her breasts or the couch beside them. She hovered on the edge of coming, not quite able to tip over. "Arthur," she whimpered, canting her hips to make it easier for him to lick at her.

He picked his head up just high enough for her to see him licking his lips, eyes dark with desire. "Come for me, Ariadne," he said, voice soft and gentle. His thumb swiped across her clit as his fingers curled inside her, and he shifted position to kiss the inside of her trembling thigh. "You're close, I can feel it," he murmured against her skin. "Come for me."

Ariadne tightened around his fingers, whimpering. "So close..."

"Let go," he murmured, lips pressed to her thigh as he continued rubbing at her clit. "I want to feel you around my cock, hear you calling my name when I'm inside you. I want you looking at me, wanting this as much as I do. I've wanted this since Paris, planning out the hotel level, when you pointed out all the hiding spots on the floors. I wanted to push you up against the wall, bend you over one of the beds, take your hands and push into you, feel it when you come..."

She groaned and arched her back, eyes shut tight as Arthur spoke. She panted, twisting, pinching her nipples as he worked her clit. Finally the tension broke, and she fell limp beneath him. Catching her breath, she opened her eyes and saw him slowly licking his fingers clean, lips pulled back into a sultry smile. "God, that was hot," she managed to sputter.

Arthur stood long enough to kick off the rest of his clothes. He was proudly erect, the tip of his cock weeping a little. "And you didn't want slow..." he teased, grinning.

"Consider me schooled," Ariadne replied, reaching up for him. She couldn't help but grin back at him. "Now get down here and fuck me."

To her endless delight, he couldn't go as slowly as he wanted to. He could only manage that the third time they had sex that night.

***

Eames found them in a hole in the wall diner on the fifth day. "You know," he began, sliding into the booth next to Ariadne. "You didn't have to make it quite so difficult to find both of you. Robert isn't suspicious any longer. He's already making arrangements to tear apart his inheritance after the funeral."

Arthur frowned deeply at Eames. "Aren't you supposed to watch over him during the week?"

"I've already found Yusuf," Eames continued, ignoring Arthur. "He's making time with a lovely projection that works in a flower shop. I didn't know he had it in him, the sly bastard."

Ariadne sighed, shaking her head. "Stop being rude, Eames."

Eames laid an arm around her shoulders. "Darling, I haven't yet begun to be rude."

"Trust me," Arthur intoned, "this is him trying to be cute."

"Trying?" Eames asked, affronted.

Patting his hand in a conciliatory manner, Ariadne rolled her eyes. "All right, all right. You're all at the top of your game and experts in the field. No need for the pissing contest."

"Mine is bigger anyway," Eames snarked.

"I'm not even going to ask," Ariadne replied, cutting off Arthur's curt reply. "Look, we've got only one more day to go."

"Precisely why I came looking for you darlings." Eames gave them both a charming smile. "I'd love to work with you both again. If you're interested in remaining in the field, Ariadne."

"Dom wouldn't want that," Arthur said quickly.

"He's not here," Ariadne said in quiet tones. "It's _my_ choice."

"Well said. Not to mention, he was quick to risk us all for his own personal gain," Eames said, an edge to his voice that Ariadne thought was anger. She didn't know him well enough to tell, as he had been carefully charming and solicitous around her in the warehouse during training.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Eames raised a hand to forestall him. "I won't argue that seeing his children isn't a worthy goal. But he didn't ask us to take on the risk of losing our minds for his sake. If the man doesn't drop out of the business to stay with his children, I'll ruin his reputation and ensure he won't work again."

Ariadne gave Arthur a sympathetic look; they'd already talked about Arthur's history with the Cobbs, so she understood why he was so loyal. He had been so utterly and devotedly in love with Mal, and she had chosen Dom Cobb. She had never even known of his feelings for her, as Arthur didn't want her to feel badly for him or lose her friendship. He had even grown to like Dom as a friend during their work together in the military's dream share project. When she had asked him to look after Dom when she was planning her suicide, he had never thought of saying no. As much as Arthur had grieved for Mal, watching Dom's back gave him something to do. Seeing her shade and having her torture him in Dom's dreams had been an exquisite torture he endured for her sake, sure that one day Dom would get his grief under control and they could at least be friends again.

"I haven't thought about long term, to be honest," Ariadne said.

"If you do," Eames said seriously, "those totems Cobb uses won't be enough to get you out of every situation. Let's say you had to figure it out right now. You're not going to pull them out and test it here in front of me."

"Of course not," Arthur said, frowning. "There are usually clues along the way, or opportunities to manufacture excuses to get to a quiet place to check."

"I see what you're getting at, though," Ariadne said as Eames opened his mouth to speak. "It gives us another way to check. It doesn't invalidate the totem."

"Precisely. I'm glad you see reason," Eames said, flashing her his best charming smile. "This is why I'd love to work with you again." He turned to Arthur. "You may lack imagination for jobs like this, but you are skilled and you get the job done, no matter the cost."

"You damn with faint praise," Arthur intoned, hand tight around his coffee mug. "Par for the course with you."

Eames rolled his eyes. "I'm extending my offer to you as well, but you don't have to take it if you find the concept so disagreeable."

"You didn't even say what you'd use," Arthur pointed out.

"Isn't it obvious?" Eames countered.

"You want to teach us to forge," Ariadne guessed.

"In one," Eames said with a smile, pleased. "Nothing so elaborate as what I do, but small changes are possible. Nail color, watch face type, that sort of thing. It's not large enough to trigger a response from the subject, but enough to safely tell you if you're dreaming."

"Same reasoning as to why I shouldn't fold the world in half?" Ariadne teased, patting Eames' arm. He seemed pleased by her statement and that she wasn't shoving him away. "Well, I'm in. That way, I have another trick up my sleeve if I decide to stay in the business."

"Architects don't always go into the field. You don't _have_ to entertain that level of risk," Arthur was quick to point out.

"She's here, isn't she?" Eames countered.

"She has a mind of her own, doesn't she?" Ariadne pointed out, irritation creeping into her tone. It was nice to see that they cared about her for more than the job, but she wasn't exactly a helpless ingénue, either.

Arthur wasn't pleased with the comment, and he stared at Eames' arm still around Ariadne's shoulders. "We can discuss this later," he told Ariadne, voice clipped with displeasure.

Ariadne knew he wanted to protect her from the dangers inherent in illegal dream share. She didn't know how to fire a weapon in the real world. She was just a student in a tiny garret apartment in Paris, not someone trained to protect herself against others hellbent on tracking her down. Arthur had apparently transferred his loyalty from Cobb to her over the past five days, and any potential risk to her safety was already raising his hackles. Having him tackle real world security concerns for her apartment might make him feel better.

"It's touching," Eames told Arthur in all seriousness. "I appreciate the concern you have for Ariadne's safety. But let's be honest here. Real world architecture won't give the same creative or financial rewards as our line of work will." He turned to her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "So I propose to ensure your survival and safety the best I can."

"Because you think I'm that great?" she asked, a measure of disbelief in her tone.

"Because I know you're worth it. And very few associates get that rating from me." He winked at Ariadne. "And if Arthur's possessive streak is any indication, you _definitely_ rank high in his affections."

Arthur glowered at Eames, but didn't deny it. Ariadne gave him a fond smile, indicating she felt the same. Eames sighed, his lips pulled into a knowing smile. "Ah. A blossoming, budding love affair, a bright spot amidst the potential clusterfuck that this was. Lovely. You _do_ deserve something nice, Arthur, especially with all the shit Cobb must have pulled over the years. You can't tell me he hasn't."

"I won't discuss it with you."

"I don't expect you to," Eames replied placatingly. "I'd never get in the way of such things. Perhaps add to it?"

Ariadne blinked. "What?" she asked, confused as to what his meaning could be.

"Never mind," Arthur told Ariadne with a shake of his head. "We couldn't start that now, anyway," he told Eames.

She was glad that Arthur wasn't stopping her from trying to learn as much as she could. "Right. We wouldn't want to potentially trigger a response from Fischer. We'll need to meet somewhere after we land."

"I booked a hotel room at the Westin already," Eames told them. "You're both welcome to share it with me. Then we can discuss the particulars of our practice."

"You have your thesis," Arthur reminded Ariadne. "Just to give you the option of working in the real world, if you want."

"I'm sure Saito would be grateful enough to give me a job if he had any architecture firms," Ariadne said with a laugh.

"Or he'll buy one," Eames snarked, fingers stroking her arm.

"You should have options," Arthur told Ariadne. "I don't want you to feel like we coerced you."

"It's not coercion if I _want_ to learn more."

Eames nodded, pleased. "Perfect." He gave them his room number with a lascivious grin. "I look forward to the both of you joining me."

After he left, Arthur leaned in closer to Ariadne. "He was flirting with both of us, you know."

"Wait, what?" she asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

Arthur laughed a little. "It's something he does. He won't push if you're not interested, but he _wants_ us to be interested."

Ariadne felt out of her depth; she had felt daring enough already for kissing Arthur in the hotel level and sleeping with him here. She usually focused more on her studies, on getting everything done properly. She could probably wrap her mind around three people in a bed together, but she wasn't sure if she could actually go through with it. "Arthur..."

"I don't have any claim on you," he murmured, looking down at the table rather than meet her eyes. "I can't tell you not to go."

"What do you want?" she asked him, voice quiet. He didn't have a claim? That was ridiculous, and she wanted to blame Mal for this, too. Some part of her wanted him to shout that she couldn't go, he wouldn't allow her to be anywhere near Eames. He would never do such a thing if that was what she really wanted, and he would swallow his own feelings if they conflicted with hers. But she didn't even know what she wanted.

"We've..." Arthur cleared his throat. "Like I said. It's this thing he does sometimes. He's not the type to mean anything by it. Emotions aren't the same to him, I don't think. But he likes you, that I can tell. He wants you safe and worries about your future. That's more than what he feels about most players in the business."

Thinking of how he casually mentioned ruining Cobb, Ariadne could see that. "And if I don't know what I want to do?" she asked, reaching forward to touch Arthur's hand. She could still feel the press of Eames' arm around her shoulders, the soft touch of his fingers along her arm. It had been a caress, an invitation for more.

"Whatever you decide, make sure it isn't something you'll regret," Arthur told her, sympathy in his tone. He seemed to know that this was overwhelming for her. "Don't let anyone push you anywhere you don't want to go."

If only it really was that simple.

***

Ariadne gave Arthur a soft smile while picking up her baggage at LAX. He gave her the same kind of brisk nod he would give a stranger, though his lips were curled into a secretive smile and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Cobb went off with Stephen Miles without looking back at the others; in a way, she could see Eames' point about him not caring about the rest of them during the job. She gave Yusuf a wave, and he grinned back at her, not caring about the "do not acknowledge each other" admonition Cobb had given everyone prior to leaving Paris to start the job. Saito had ducked out as soon as he could, movements slow and stiff as if he had aged overnight. Ariadne wondered what had happened to him in limbo, but supposed that if Cobb and Mal had aged and lived a lifetime in limbo together before, Saito likely had done the same.

Eames caught her eye and winked, reminding her of his booked hotel room. She didn't give him any indication of what she planned to do, and managed not to blush as she watched him leave baggage claim for the taxi stand.

He was already gone by the time she got there, and Ariadne saw Arthur standing off to the side in his raincoat and shoulder bag. Compared to his usual straight posture and sharp eyed glances, Arthur seemed more tired. His shoulders were a little slumped, and he was staring off at the departed traffic with a blank expression.

She moved to his side and grasped his left hand. "Care to share a taxi somewhere?" she asked.

Arthur brightened immediately. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Still haven't decided, actually. What about you?"

It wasn't very obvious to others, but she could tell he was fingering his die in his right pocket. "I don't have anything lined up. I wasn't sure if I would have to include Dom or not..." His voice trailed off, and Arthur looked at her intently. "I wouldn't want to presume anything, Ariadne."

"I told you. Presume away." Her eyes practically sparkled as she looked at him. "I may not know where I'm going next, but I know I'm not running away from this."

He nodded, tension in his stooped shoulders relaxing. She watched him roll his shoulders back and straighten a bit. "Well. I think we should get something to eat first. We slept just about the entire flight, so we missed out on the meal."

Ariadne nodded, tightening her grip on his left hand. "And after?"

"We can figure it out as we go along," Arthur replied easily. "For once, I'm not going to plan out every last detail."

She laughed delightedly, nodding again. "Wonderful."

Arthur hailed a taxi and directed him to go to a Hyatt. It wasn't anywhere close to Eames' room, and they were only there long enough to check in and deposit their luggage. From there, they went to Craft. "I tend to come here if I'm in the area," Arthur admitted on the way to the restaurant. "It's comfortable, classy and somewhere I can think without looking like there's trouble following me."

Ariadne let him order for her and tried not to feel star struck. If she was going to be part of this world, she would have to figure out how to look and feel part of it. She wasn't going to be a student forever, and that faint twinge of terror at the thought of leaving the safety of university had to be suppressed somehow. This would be the same kind of feeling if she was entering a firm rather than illegal activity, though the illegality of it all was starting to sink in. _They had deliberately messed with someone's mind._ She had done something amazing and wonderful and terrible with this job, and she was contemplating more of it.

"You're thinking of something stressful," Arthur noted, sipping his water.

"How do you avoid thinking of the ethics? Or the laws?"

"Now you're thinking of that?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"I never really thought of it as real harm before," Ariadne admitted sheepishly. "It's only dreams, and I was building cities. I didn't really think about _why._ I kept telling myself it's not _really_ dangerous. But then actually going into one.... What you've been saying while in the dream feels different now that we're awake. It feels real."

He was very still as he looked at her. "Meaning?"

"I need to be prepared for this," Ariadne said, leaning toward him slightly. "I'm not prepared for _anything_ in it now. I know what working with a firm will be like: long hours, being the junior member, planning municipal areas and office buildings. I don't know what this will be like, and I can't really choose until I do."

"Most architects don't go into the field," Arthur murmured, exhaling deeply. "I would never ask you to."

Ariadne smiled and reached out blindly for his hand across the table. "I trust you, Arthur. You would never steer me wrong. That's why I want your input to help me decide."

"I can't make the decision for you. We think completely differently..."

"I know," Ariadne said. "But what would I need to learn to be a viable part of dream share? I need to learn to protect myself, right? I don't want you constantly worrying that I'm going to do something wrong or be in danger."

"Meaning, is it worth meeting Eames?" Arthur asked, a measure of dread in his tone.

"Is it?" Ariadne asked. "You know him better than I do."

"I don't think it will hurt," Arthur said after a moment, sounding as though the syllables were being dragged out of the depths of his soul. His expression was flat, giving away more than he probably thought he was.

"I won't go if it will hurt you," Ariadne said firmly. "It doesn't matter how good he thinks he is, it won't be worth it to me."

Arthur was visibly surprised, lips parting. He had obviously gotten attached to her quickly, and hadn't expected her to do the same. "Ariadne..."

"Whatever happens, we're in this together."

He let out a soft sighing breath, then nodded sharply. "Then we'll go."

***

Eames grinned widely at them when he opened his door. "I was hoping to see you two."

He was barefoot, dressed in jeans and a loose fitting shirt. He had a book in one hand with his finger holding his place. The scent of cigarettes clung to him, making Ariadne want to twitch her nose and cough. Sweeping his arm to the side, he stepped back to let them in. "I managed to get the PASIV that our accomplice on the flight had," he mentioned as he shut the door. 

"I'd made arrangements..." Arthur began, a deep frown beginning to form.

"She got it to your courier. I'm the purchaser."

"What?" Ariadne asked, getting the feeling that she was going to be saying that a lot again.

The grin never wavered in the slightest. "I told you. I rather liked working with you. But I know how Cobb works, and how he uses physical totems. They serve their purpose, but are fallible. If you have a backup technique, you can survive other jobs intact." Eames' gaze was predatory, sending a shiver down Ariadne's spine. "Come on, I'm sure you have other questions for me."

"Will you actually answer any of them honestly?" Arthur asked, brow arched as Eames moved to sit on his bed.

The forger took a last drag on his cigarette then stubbed it out in the ashtray. "I just might."

"Other than the opportunity to work with us again," Ariadne began hesitantly, moving further into the room to sit at the armchair. "Why do this? Why didn't you mention it before? There was all that time we were working in Paris..."

"I can afford to be picky about jobs I take," Eames replied, shrugging. "I know I don't give off that impression most of the time," he added, looking over at Arthur with a slight smile. "But I take the difficult ones, the tricky ones. I'm after the challenge of it. It's nothing to simply sneak inside a mind and take what you like, but there's craftsmanship in creating a whole new persona to graft over yours. It takes skill to become someone else."

"You like fooling people?" Ariadne asked, frowning a little.

Eames pursed his lips and considered his words carefully. "It's not that, Ariadne," he said finally. "It's the connection I can make with the subject. It's... There's no easy way to really define the feeling of meeting a challenge and mastering it, in making the impossible possible. This job," he said, pointing at both Ariadne and Arthur. "There was a thrill at the end, when we woke up, when it was done. Not for what Fischer will do, but for the inception itself. That it _worked,_ despite all the odds that Cobb didn't see fit to tell us about. _You_ somehow made it work, Ariadne. That's what I'm after."

"And you can't get that in the real world?" she asked, aware of Arthur watching her carefully. He wasn't as careful with Eames; they already knew of each other and had worked on several other jobs in the past. Arthur might not like Eames' flip attitude, but the work ethic was solid when Eames put his mind to it. If not for their competitive streaks and Arthur's devotion to someone that Eames didn't care for, they might have been friends.

"Not the same way," Eames replied with a shrug. "Oh, I do a number of different things. Forgery is a skill rarely needed in dream share if the extractors and point men plan the job right. Most never know the subjects and don't need to get in too close. It's part of the point man's job to lay out the best possible scenario while under, yes?"

"Normally," Arthur acknowledged with a slight nod. "Inception is different. I said it was impossible and couldn't be done."

"That's why I say you lack imagination. The point of dreams is to make anything possible, even if it couldn't be done in the real world." There was a smooth, confident smile on Eames' face as he leaned back a little, still sprawled on his bed. Ariadne swallowed, hoping her cheeks weren't getting pink. It only just occurred to her how sexual his pose was, as if he was trying to entice them both into his bed.

Would it be awful of her to be tempted?

"So what do you propose?" Ariadne asked, trying to cover up the rising discomfort. "We wouldn't be able to do a real forgery."

"But that's not the point, darling," Eames drawled, full lips pulling back into a smile.

"What if we can't?" she asked. "If this is a rare skill, it might not be something we can even do on a small scale."

"You can fold the world in half," he said with a dismissive shrug. "You'll have to do something on a smaller scale to escape notice, but that's a possibility. Arthur, on the other hand, may need to be a bit more creative." He lofted an eyebrow at the point man. "Think you can come up with something, darling?"

"I dropped all of you in zero G with projections chasing me," Arthur told him sharply. "I'm sure I can manage."

"See? That's what I like about you. Always up for the challenge." He flashed Arthur a brilliant grin, then turned to Ariadne. "So you're both in, I take it?"

Ariadne looked toward Arthur, who gave her a subtle nod. He would go anywhere she wanted to go, and he knew her well enough by now to know that she was interested. "Yeah," Ariadne said with a decisive nod. "We're in."

***  
***


	2. Body To Body

They were dreaming. It was obvious because the sky was teal, the beach was made of volcanic glass and the ocean lapping at the smooth black surface created orange foam. There were people milling about, and they looked completely ordinary on the surface. Ariadne didn't look at them closely, feeling the oddity of the sky and ocean like a chill along her spine. Eames hadn't seen limbo, hadn't even wanted to hear about what she had endured when she followed Cobb down to find Fischer. All he had wanted to know was if they could proceed with the job.

Eames had the same relaxed outfit on from his hotel room, and Ariadne saw that she was in a red triangle string bikini top and cutoff jeans. Her hair was stick straight and hung down to her waist, a coronet of daisies wound into a crown on top of her head. Her bare feet were right on the volcanic glass, but it didn't feel any different from ordinary cheap linoleum. Her lips twisted in distaste; she could have made it smooth and cool, pleasing to the soles of feet after walking across hot, grainy sand or sharp, gritty dirt. This was too simple and didn't feel real, not enough detail to hold her interest. 

Arthur was dressed in black linen slacks and a collared shirt open at the throat, a black jacket unbuttoned over it. He wore sunglasses on his face and his hair was done up in a near pompadour. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, the end barely lit up enough to form embers. Before he even thought about it, Arthur breathed in deeply so the smoke could curl around in his lungs. He took the cigarette out from his lips and stared at it a moment. Dunhill, the same brand Eames preferred. "Really, Eames?"

"A man can dream, yes?" Eames drawled. "Besides, props can be very important for forging. I do my tricks with mirrors and sleight of hand, and the farther down I go the better the forges can be. We're only one level down, and I made certain to put in obvious differences. There's no mistaking we're dreaming, and there's no risk involved if any of my projections decide they're through with the testing."

All right, it made sense. But Ariadne saw the surf crashing and creating orange foam, and for some reason all she could think of was shooting Mal in the chest and watching her bleed as Cobb cradled her in his arms.

"Start small," Eames advised, a smile curling across his lips as he crossed his arms. "Change your clothes, or simply get rid of them. Or change some feature I put there that you don't like. I tried to give you options."

"You'd love it if I made this top disappear," Ariadne grumbled.

"Of course," Eames agreed with a grin. "Small but perfect. Don't you think so, Arthur?"

Arthur flicked the cigarette at Eames, lips compressed into a thin, unhappy line. "Don't wind us up, Mr. Eames. Why would we want to work with you if you keep doing that?"

Eames heaved a dramatic sigh. "Come on, now. Someone has to take out that stick from up your arse. Unless you'd rather I put something else there?" he teased, skipping back a step when Arthur lunged in his direction. "C'mon, Arthur. Don't tell me you take this shite seriously? Ariadne can tell it's not serious. Why can't you? Unless you wish it was...?"

Ariadne rushed between the two men just as Arthur would have reached Eames. Arthur crashed into her, sending the three of them tumbling down onto the volcanic glass. "Stop, Eames," she said, voice firm and quiet. One hand was pressed against his chest and she pushed against it to try to get up. "Stop. It's not funny, it's cruel to taunt us this way just to get your kicks."

"Is that what you think this is?" Eames asked, looking from her pained expression to Arthur's angry glower.

"What else could it be?" Ariadne asked.

"I'm your favorite target to pick on," Arthur told Eames. "I can take it, but I won't have you picking on Ariadne the same way."

Rather than answer with words, Eames grasped Ariadne by the back of her head and kissed her thoroughly. Arthur made a choked sound and started to roll away, but Eames grasped his shoulder and ended his kiss with Ariadne. Before Arthur could pull away again, Eames kissed him full on the mouth.

"You blind idiot," Eames finally said when the kiss ended. "You stupid, stupid man."

Arthur looked gobsmacked, and Ariadne managed to wriggle her torso out from between them. Eames wouldn't let her get any farther than that. "I don't—" she began uncertainly.

"What? Did you really think love was simply a binary storybook tale?" Eames asked her, brows knit together. "Wait... Of course you did. You haven't been out in the world. And Arthur here wouldn't know any different, if the Cobbs were his model."

Slowly, hesitantly, they disentangled and rose to standing on the volcanic glass again. A number of projections were looking at them curiously, but none were rushing in to attack. Eames was good at suppressing his projections, and he wasn't particularly threatened here. "I wouldn't want to keep you around if I didn't like you. I wouldn't work with you if I couldn't trust you." Each word was carefully enunciated. There was no mistaking his sincerity.

"So now...?" Ariadne began, voice faltering. Eames had laid himself out, and either Ariadne or Arthur could accept or reject him. He was right, this was as much a sign of trust as it was an emotional revelation. She could feel Arthur's eyes on her; he would follow her lead on this, as he said he would at lunch.

Eames remained silent, watching her and occasionally flicking his eyes toward Arthur. Arthur kept his gaze on Ariadne. It all hinged on her, she realized suddenly. This could begin or end with a single word from her. If this wasn't what she wanted, they would all walk away and pretend this never happened, it was only a dream. Nobody really meant it if they were dreaming, it would be easy to gloss over this and try to maintain a working relationship. Maybe it would be prickly and awkward, maybe not.

She licked her lips, drawing a breath. She couldn't let go of Arthur, that was for certain, and she liked Eames a lot. The thought of moving forward without them in her life somehow, even if it was just a boring agency job, made her throat constrict. As terrifying as the prospect of trying to balance them both was, there really wasn't a choice.

Taking a step toward Eames, Ariadne's heart thudded in her chest. It felt like falling off the porch in limbo, that first step that made the air rush past, infinity shattering all around her until she woke up feeling whole again.

"So now," she tried again, voice more sure and steady. "Show us what we need to do to make this work."

Eames moved forward, lips stretching wide into a relieved grin. He caught Ariadne about the waist, pulling her to him as he reached for Arthur with his other arm. "It all depends on your imagination," he murmured, before kissing Arthur again. It was obvious he was the reluctant one here, if only because he had to reconfigure much of what he thought of Eames. He had thought of Eames as deliberately baiting him simply to see if he could, trying to show him up or show off, intending to prove he was better than everyone else.

Arthur pulled back after a moment, Eames' shirt caught in his fist. "You fucking bastard," he growled. "You..."

"Would you have believed me if I said anything earlier? When those idiots were shooting at us all in Prague? Or the subject was flirting with me in Bucharest? Really? Would you have listened to what I was trying to say?"

Looking away was answer enough.

Eames looked over at Ariadne and dropped a kiss onto her forehead before turning back to Arthur. "Remember that job in Florence? That blonde I was in the dream?" Eames' appearance shifted to a lithe blonde woman with a red scarf in hand. He draped his arms around Arthur's shoulders, full lips brushing around the side of his jaw. _"Caro mio,_ stay here with me," Eames purred in a sultry feminine voice, the hand with the scarf brushing across Arthur's chest. His other hand grasped his ass, kneading the flesh a little.

Arthur swallowed unsteadily, then looked back at Ariadne. Obviously, he had thought Eames had simply been fucking with him. Again. This time, he caught the red scarf and pulled it from the blonde's hand. He spun him around and blindfolded him, catching an arm between their bodies. "If you had just _said_ something..."

"Would you have left Cobb for me?" he asked, grinding his ass into Arthur's groin. Ariadne stared, fascinated, feeling almost dirty for watching and getting turned on.

"Could you choose?" Eames continued to purr, grinding against Arthur. He reached out for Ariadne, who grasped his hand without any hesitation. "Would you give yourself a chance to have something glorious before you run away again?"

Arthur groaned, his lips pressed against Eames' cheek. "You ran, too," he accused, hips jerking forward to rub against Eames' ass. "Right into the casinos of Mombasa, and never once looked back to see if we were still alive."

"I knew you could handle yourself, darling. Roberto's guards were next to useless."

Feeling bold, Ariadne moved closer. She let go of Eames' hand to run it down Arthur's back, and slid her other hand along Eames' stomach. It was odd to feel a woman's body and know it was really Eames underneath the forgery. There was no way she could build a construct that well around herself; her image of herself was too strong to really shift, even in a dream.

Eames purred, caught between the two of them. She leaned in, Eames' arm rubbing against her breasts, and kissed Arthur's shoulder. He turned and ducked his head down so their mouths could meet, her tongue darting out to taste him. Eames made a soft, pleased sound, his body shifting to feel more of them. Arthur let go of him and the scarf. It fell to the ground, forgotten, and Eames stayed in this female form to kiss Arthur and then Ariadne.

Maybe because it was a dream and didn't carry the same weight as reality did, Ariadne wasn't as troubled by the sight of Arthur and Eames kissing, by the insistent way Eames tugged Arthur down to the glass ground and beckoned for Ariadne to join them. "No one gets left out, hm?" he purred, shimmying out of the dress he had dreamed up. "Shall I stay this way?" Eames asked, lips quirked into a teasing smile. "Want to fuck me as both a man and a woman?"

"Yeah," Ariadne blurted before she could chicken out. "Let's do that."

Clothes disappeared with a mere thought, and Ariadne was already damp with arousal at the sight of Arthur's naked body. Eames in female form didn't turn her on, but she still touched him out of curiosity. He grinned and moaned when Arthur mouthed his breasts and fingered the wet cleft between his legs. Ariadne distantly wondered how sex would actually function with the forge, but Eames pulled her down for a searing kiss. It blotted out all thought and left her drowning in the sensation of his lips on hers, her hair caught in his hand and the smooth expanse of skin beneath her palm as she knelt beside his sprawled form.

Being a little more practiced in dream sex at this point, Ariadne knew it didn't have to take forever for her to get wet. She was practically dripping when she broke the kiss to breathe, so she brought Eames' free hand to her groin. He obligingly slid his fingers through her folds, filling and stretching her. Arthur shifted position, kneeling between Eames' spread thighs. He touched them gently, tracing lines into the sensitive skin until Eames groaned. Ariadne looked at the glistening peaked nipple and bent her head to lick and suck at it. Now Eames arched up and reached out for Arthur with his other hand. "Fuck me, Arthur. I'll beg if I need to, just fuck me hard and fast."

"But..."

"It's a _dream,_ Arthur," Eames nearly growled, his own voice bleeding through the forge's dulcet tones. "It's only in the real world that you'd need to prep me first." He reached down to grasp Arthur's wrist, guiding his fingers to the wet slit. "I'm wet for you, darling, aching for that lovely cock you're not giving me." Eames grinned at Arthur, licking those full lips. "Show me what you've got. I've dreamed of this."

"You have?" he asked, disbelief in his tone. He still shifted position, feeling Eames' female body from the inside out and watching him squirm in response.

"Of course. That arse you've got? That mouth? Of course I have," Eames replied, fingers still buried deeply inside of Ariadne. "They taunt me as much as Ariadne's does."

Arthur positioned himself at Eames' entrance and thrust in, as if he had needed to hear that as proof Eames wasn't simply fucking with him. Eames groaned again at the sensation, the rhythm he had set with Ariadne stuttering a bit. She shifted her focus from his breast to his mouth, swallowing down the sounds he made. Ariadne grasped one breast, rubbing the nipple the way she liked to tease herself. He made another delicious whimpering sound, which shot straight to her groin. She tightened around his fingers, close to orgasm herself. She arched up and away from Eames when she came, pleasure flooding her completely.

Lying beside Eames when she collapsed, Ariadne watched Arthur fuck him. He had his lower lip caught between his teeth, his hands tight on Eames' thighs as he bore down hard and fast. Eames was panting, one hand scrabbling at the volcanic glass and the other caught between Ariadne's. He let out a louder groan before Arthur's hips finally jerked, and Ariadne watched Eames' eyelids flutter as he came down from the high. Arthur let go of Eames' thighs and rested them on the glass, leaning his weight there. Ariadne moved to drop a kiss onto his forearm, so Arthur turned to look at her, lips curled in that special smile he had for her.

After Arthur withdrew and knelt beside them on the glass, Eames let the forge drop. He moved so that on hands and knees, he loomed over Ariadne's sprawled body. "I want to feel you around my cock now." He turned and shot Arthur a playful smile. "Take me again if you can, Arthur. I'd be interested in knowing which version of me you prefer."

"The one that's quiet," Arthur snarked, making Ariadne laugh. Eames did as well, and his touch was gentle when he positioned Ariadne beneath him. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of him inside her, his large hands splayed across her stomach as he stroked the skin. She didn't see Arthur push into Eames' body, but she felt the added pressure of his thrust into her.

"Harder," she whispered, reaching for Eames. He obliged her, going hard and fast and grunting with the effort above her. She could hear Arthur making his own soft noises of pleasure behind him, and she cupped her own breasts and pinched her nipples. "Just like that," she breathed, arching up a little. She was close, so close, it was so easy in the dream, hardly any effort at all, and all it took was a little more pleasure to tip her over the edge.

And then the timer ran out.

***

"You can stay here with me," Eames said, sliding his palm along Ariadne's ankle. She and Arthur had been on the bed, the PASIV on the nightstand and Eames across from them in the armchair. He had woken first, and now he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, watching with heavily lidded eyes as Arthur gently removed the needles from her wrist. "There's enough room on the bed and I'm booked through the end of the week."

"And after?" Arthur asked, voice cool and neutral. His eyes flicked to Eames' earnest expression, then to Ariadne's fascinated one.

Eames merely smiled broadly. "Depends on what you want. A job or downtime, or walking away and never looking back. Though I don't think you'd leave, would you? Not after this."

"Do you really think that of us?" Arthur asked, brows knit as he contemplated Eames.

"Of course not. You're not that kind. Neither is our darling Ariadne."

No, she wasn't. She was in the thick of it now, caught between these two men and the desire to stay in dream share, build impossible worlds and see forbidden secrets unfold in front of her. It was intoxicating, and there was no going back to the innocent life she had lived before Cobb found her in Paris.

"We said we're in," Ariadne said, voice firm. "So show us what we need to do."

***

Arthur and Ariadne were both terrible at forgery. Arthur kept frowning at his hands, but his fingernails didn't suddenly grow or turn colors. Then he tried to change the color of his tie or the pocket square in his suit jacket. Then he tried changing the cufflink shape or the tie clip, and nothing happened when he tried to change his eye color. Ariadne tried to make the ragged cuticles and bitten edges of her nails smooth. Her curling hair refused to stay straight and her eyes remained golden brown. She almost got freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, but they disappeared within an eye blink. Her scarves remained the same color and her cardigan buttons didn't ever change shape. She never changed height, and her chest didn't get bigger. Arthur was quick to reassure her that he adored her body as it was, which made her laugh and Eames roll his eyes in amusement.

"This isn't working," Ariadne said with a sigh, yanking the needles from her wrist. It stung more than she had expected, and she winced. "Look, forgery isn't our thing. We're trying to force it, but that's just not working."

"I can extend my stay," Eames said, not perturbed in the slightest. He had another day left on his hotel room at this point. They had made repeated drops into dreaming, and it hadn't mattered if they remained in a one level dream or if Eames worked with them one at a time on a second level dream. Neither could shift their shapes with forgery. "Your senses of self are too strong. Not a bad thing, ordinarily. But this means that it's not an option to replace your totems."

She watched as he slid his hand along her waist and leaned in for a kiss. Ariadne tilted her face up toward his and gave him a gentle peck on the lips. "So then what?"

"We play to your strengths."

Arthur leaned in, his hand sliding between Eames' shoulder blades. He dropped his chin onto Eames' shoulder and looked at Ariadne. "Or is it the somnacin? This isn't government grade, but sometimes the local suppliers don't have good compounds."

"I got these from Yusuf," Eames told them. "He didn't ask what I needed it for," he said at Ariadne's questioning look. "He never asks that kind of question, and he's been my supplier for years. Quiet and punctual, exactly what you need in a chemist. He went right back home after an ordinary nap, though. LA isn't his kind of town. He only agreed to the job because he wanted to see a bit of Paris."

"It _is_ beautiful there," Ariadne agreed with a warm smile. "It's why I wanted to go to school there."

"You can't miss more school. It's bad enough this wasn't a real internship..."

"I have my models and sketches. I'm going to present them as work the firm decided to reject. My professors won't question that. It happens all the time in firms. Junior members rarely get their work built."

"Which is why you want to dream so much," Arthur said, the words more like a sigh. There was no dislodging Ariadne from this life. She was getting deeper and deeper into it, and he could see the desire in her eyes when she looked at the PASIV.

"When exactly do you need to be back?" Eames asked, concerned. He tapped the pack of Dunhills in his hand, shaking them loose inside the package. He wouldn't light it up right then; Ariadne had always been vocal about her distaste for the habit, but Eames enjoyed the push and pull of the smoke through his lips, knowing that every breath was dangerous. He liked playing with all kinds of fire.

"One more week."

He and Arthur had known that, of course, but it was still polite to ask. "This can wait until after your thesis, you know. You'll need to prepare for that."

"I'm not worried about it." Ariadne's entire demeanor was one of confidence, which seemed to ease Arthur's state of mind a bit.

"I'll look for a job for us, then," Arthur offered. "Something small, easy. There will be plenty of time to practice creating another totem."

Ariadne smiled at him, nodding. "I'll need to, I'm sure. No offense, Eames, but forging sucks. I'd much rather twist a dream into pretzel shapes, but that isn't a good option either. I don't know what else we would use other than totems."

"I'm sure what you need will come to you in a dream," Eames said, grinning at her.

Snorting, Ariadne threw one of the pillows from the bed at him. The only thing that came to mind was the way his mouth felt on the inside of her thighs or how full she felt when he was inside her. His touch felt different from Arthur's, but no less reverent. He and Arthur took turns with her in the dream and it had spilled over into real life a few times. She could still feel the ache and stretch in her thighs, and she didn't want that to go away. Ariadne pulled Arthur in for a kiss, since he was sitting closer to her. "Visit me in Paris?" she asked, though it was directed at both men.

"Of course," Arthur promised.

Eames laughed. "As if there was any doubt."

There really hadn't been.

***

There was a bouquet on Ariadne's coffee table when she returned from defending her thesis. She wouldn't have official results for some time yet, but she had a good feeling about the process. Some of her friends had invited her out for drinks to celebrate being done. It felt strange to spend time with them again; it felt like forever since she had been a student, and her life had changed dramatically in ways impossible to explain. Ariadne was glad to see them, to be reminded of the future she might have chosen if she never met Dom Cobb. The reminder solidified her choice, so she could tell Arthur she did indeed know what she was giving up by staying in dream share.

The card with the flowers had an address in Mombasa and a key taped to it. "I don't get it," she said aloud.

"Of course you do, darling," Eames called out from her kitchen. He had been sitting there in the dim light, drinking a cup of tea and smoking his Dunhills. "You just need to think about it."

She looked from the address and key to his pleased expression. "There's no point in asking how you got in here, is there?" Eames merely smirked, so she shook her head. "This is yours," she said finally, knowing it to be true.

"My home. Not a safe house, but my _home,"_ he confirmed.

Ariadne's breath caught and she went to his side. That was an important gift, one she immediately understood when he stressed _home._ Her lips parted into an O shape, and she clutched the card in her fist. "Eames."

"I don't just give those away, you realize," he said as she approached him. He blew out a lungful of smoke as she neared, angling it away from her. "You are in elite company, darling girl."

She straddled him, tasting cigarettes on his tongue when she kissed him. Melting into his embrace, she felt as if she was lit up from within. Her love was a bright light or a fire, or whatever other description it carried in poetry or love songs. It was the kind of sensation where everything was better and brighter, the frustrations of the world no longer mattering.

Pushing Eames' clothes out of the way was a bit awkward, but they shimmied until Eames' cock could spring free of his trousers. Ariadne had to climb down to kick off her corduroys and panties, but that let him adjust himself on the chair as well. She was about to say "This is stupid" while climbing back up, but Eames caught her hips in his hands and helped her slide into position above him. The words transformed into a contented sigh at the feel of him, and he helped her establish a rhythm as she rocked back and forth. Ariadne held onto his shoulders tightly, gaze locked with his. "I was hoping you'd visit before," she admitted, managing to gasp the words out.

"Had to get the key made," Eames replied, tilting his hips a little to make her down stroke a little deeper. "I don't think you needed this kind of distraction."

"I had Arthur to distract me," Ariadne informed him.

"Lucky Arthur," Eames said, pulling her down for a kiss.

Making a little pleased humming noises, Ariadne moved faster, nearly grinding her clit into his pubic bone. Eames tightened his grip on her, the pleasure getting to be too much for him. She kept going, even after he hissed from being oversensitive. He reached between their bodies and tried to rub her clit harder. "Come on, Ariadne," he groaned, teeth grit together. The pleasure was too much, almost painful, but he wasn't about to stop her just yet.

"Just a little more," she panted, throwing her head back as her eyes closed. "A little more..."

Eames made a soft frustrated noise, but he kept working at her until she came, shivering in his arms. For a minute, Ariadne remained curled around him, trying to catch her breath. "There you go," he murmured, breathing heavily.

"Yeah. I kinda take a while to get there."

"Worth the effort," he said, kissing the rise of her chest. He looked up at Ariadne, a slow smile on his face. "Let's see if I can do better this time around, hm?"

"Better?"

"Have you come faster," Eames drawled. She knew that he enjoyed reducing her to a pile of quivering flesh unable to speak. All together in LA, he had started a competition with Arthur to see if he could do it faster. Ariadne and Arthur never kept track of that, much to Eames' amusement at the time. "Besides, I found your drawer of toys. You naughty minx, you. I want to use them on you."

"Eames..."

He snickered, moving to kiss her neck. "When did you last speak with Arthur?"

"Three days ago, why?"

"I believe Arthur found a job," Eames murmured, nibbling at her jaw. "He's in Dublin at the mo', and we can join him at any time. He's still in the information gathering stage. I'd be extractor, you are our architect. Just the three of us, nice and cozy."

"Yes," Ariadne said, not needing to think about it at all. Wherever they were, there she would be.

***  
***


	3. Plunging Down

Having both Arthur and Eames in the same hotel room with Ariadne in Dublin was terribly distracting. Eames always had a penchant for teasing, but now it was more overtly sexual than before. Her cheeks flamed hot, and it was far too easy for either of them to tell what she was thinking. She was all too eager to play into their fantasies and have them act out her own. Eames could bend her over the edge of the bed and take her from behind as she sucked on Arthur's cock. He cradled her head in his hands when she took him into her mouth as Arthur watched, massaging her flesh until she was wet enough for him to enter her. Or Arthur would make love to her slowly as Eames watched, jerking off with a smug smile on his face. Eames was fascinated with the planes of Arthur's body, doing whatever he could to bring Arthur to mind shattering release. When passions cooled a little, the three would start to discuss the extraction of banking codes from a businessman that had cheated the partners he bought out.

This was perfect. It was everything that Ariadne had hoped it would be. As much as she had fallen into this life completely by accident, it was as if she had waited for this her whole life. There was no reason to return to the United States; her parents were divorced and neither had much interaction with her since she started college. Each had remarried and had other children they worried about, and Ariadne had never really gotten along with any of her half siblings. She was always the odd one out, the artsy girl with lofty dreams no one else understood. Going to Paris had been a relief for everyone in her family, and no one seemed to notice when she didn't return for holidays. It was sad, but there were no ties to cut in order to stay on the move with Arthur and Eames.

Arthur was planning to take her to the theater that evening, leaving Eames in the hotel room to go through the data that they had on the subject. He wanted to figure out a way to get the three of them alone with O'Rourke, then out of the way before he woke up. The man's home was possibly the best bet; it was a large, gated house not too far from Dublin with good security teams hired to keep him safe, but they kept to the same shifts and could easily be avoided. O'Rourke rightly suspected his former business partners wanted to get even, but he didn't know what they were willing to do. As far as Arthur's contact could tell, O'Rourke had been a bit on the paranoid side even before the buyout, and that had only worsened afterward.

"Go for a long and luxurious dinner after the show," Eames suggested. He was surrounded by photographs and manila folders full of raw data that Arthur had painstakingly put together. "I'll have an answer of some kind by the time you get back."

The play was as good as the reviews had said, dinner was excellent and Ariadne enjoyed an evening of the posh, elite life. It was so very different from a student's life, but one she could enjoy now that she had a hefty Swiss bank account. Arthur had taken over planning and paying for everything so far, but she was going to insist on being an equal partner soon. There was only so much coddling she wanted; sooner or later she would have to prove she was on the same footing and could deal with whatever dream share had to offer.

Eames had taken his own notes and jotted down ideas he had while perusing Arthur's. "I think I have the way into the house," he announced when they returned to the room. He was dressed in nothing but a loose robe barely even tied at the waist. His eyes danced when they returned. "Do go on and have the post-date sex," he teased. "I'll join you in a moment."

"You have a filthy mind, Mr. Eames," Arthur commented, locking the door behind him. He toed off his shoes before starting to remove his jacket and tie.

"You love every depraved corner of it, too," Eames responded, putting aside the folder he was holding. He leaned forward to help Ariadne unzip the back of her dress, and grinned as it fell from her lean frame. "Mmm. You too, I imagine. No knickers tonight?"

Ariadne stepped out of the puddled silk and kicked off her heels. Dressed in just a garter belt and stockings, she did a playful pirouette on her tip toes. "Do you approve, then?"

"Oh, very much so," Eames replied, letting the loose knot at his waist fall completely open.

Arthur removed his cufflinks and shirt, tossing them aside rather carelessly as he hungrily stared at Ariadne. "You know I do," he murmured, sliding his hands around her waist. She shivered at his touch and smiled up at him. "And there you were, teasing me all night..."

Unbuckling his belt, Ariadne made short work of his trousers and underwear. "Get rid of all that. You know what the sight of you in a good suit does."

"I do?" he asked, a playful tilt to his lips. Taunting her further, he bent down to press his lips to her forehead. "Perhaps it's what the sight of you in that dress did to me."

She grasped his cock and stroked it gently. "Yeah, something like that."

It was easy for her to fall into the sensation of Arthur's cock in her hand and his tongue in her mouth as he kissed her. She fell backward onto the bed after Eames moved out of the way, and Arthur hovered over her body. He didn't make any move to fondle her the way he usually did, which was frustrating. When Eames did the honors, it made more sense. Between the two of them, they worked her to a fevered pitch, just on the brink of orgasm. Ariadne groaned in frustrated desire with Eames withdrew his fingers, but that turned into a strangled howl of pleasure as Arthur thrust into her. He rode her hard and fast, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he stared down at her and tried not to come.

Arthur came too quickly, likely because too much teasing and wine with dinner. Eames took his place when he withdrew, making Ariadne moan wantonly. She watched him kiss Arthur as he fucked her slowly, his large hands keeping her hips still. She grasped at his hips and thighs, but he refused to budge or move faster. Her gasped demands didn't affect that languid pace, either. He was determined to leave her breathless and spent, tingling for hours afterward. That wasn't exactly a hardship to endure.

Only when she finally came did Eames pick up the pace. Her throat was dry from gasping and moaning, trying to twist beneath him. She had scratched at him and pulled at the sheets, grasped Arthur when he moved to her side and sucked on her breasts. Eames moved quickly, hips snapping against hers, the sound obscene and hot at once.

He collapsed on top of her afterward, forcing the air from her lungs. He caught a curl around his finger and tugged gently, a tender smile on his lips. "This job will be just as lovely, I think. Your dream and our cunning, in and out, right quick."

"You have a plan for getting into the house, then?" Arthur asked, perking up at Eames' confident tone. Sometimes the forger just needed a little time to let the pieces fall into place. Arthur's style was different, more methodical and reliant on the subject's schedules. Once on a job, however, his background in the military and security companies came in handy.

"Absolutely. Even you would be pleased with it." Eames shifted so that he wasn't crushing Ariadne any longer. She was pressed tightly between the two men, and she gave a soft, contented sigh. "Details in the morning, I think. Our lovely lass is tired."

"I wonder why," she snarked, putting an arm around each one. "Sweet dreams."

"Always," Arthur said, pressing a kiss to her lips. Eames merely smiled and settled to sleep beside her.

***

Getting into O'Rourke's home was as easy as Eames had thought it would be. He and his boyfriend got into an argument that Eames maintained he had nothing to do with starting, though the boyfriend was a known flirt and tended to spend time in clubs as if looking for a quick hookup. O'Rourke was left behind after Charlie stormed off, and he drank himself into a stupor, likely imagining that Charlie would cheat. There was no need for extra sedative; the alcohol and the naturally sedating properties of Yusuf's somnacin were more than enough to keep him under to start the extraction.

Ariadne stayed topside to watch over Arthur and Eames as they went in. She didn't think it would be all that difficult to sit and watch three men sleep. Arthur had agreed, but he was still armed with a Glock 19 under his suit jacket and Eames had brought a USP Compact. At one point while practicing Ariadne's maze, Arthur had taken her aside to give her some training in the basics of firearms handling. As much as his Glock had felt large and unwieldy in her hands, in a pinch she had to know how his pistol fired. The recoil had wound its way up her arm, and her aim was terrible. The only reason she had managed to shoot Mal in the chest was that she had been practically in point blank range and it was a dream. Ariadne had wanted to hurt Mal, and dream mechanics ensured that she did. There were no such safeguards in real life.

For practice, Ariadne reached out with her architect's sense and tried to pull on the corners of the room. They didn't move. She had her bishop in her pocket, and knocking it over felt as real as it had when she first made the totem. Twisting worlds around her in dreams was definitely a skill she couldn't replicate in reality, though it was a nice enough exercise to try. Arthur had tried to borrow a page from her and warp the dream around himself, but he didn't have the same finesse she did. Dreams twisted in chunky clumps, breaking apart the buildings and setting Eames' projections staring at him and reaching for knives. It was only Eames' sheer force of will that kept them from rending him limb from limb.

O'Rourke gasped and twisted after about a minute after the somnacin drip began. Ariadne stopped staring at the walls and looked at him anxiously. Sweat was breaking out, and his mouth open, lips more swollen than before.

Dear God, he was allergic to somnacin.

Panicked, she put the headphones over Arthur's ears and pressed play for the musical cue. She depressed the end button on the PASIV. Another minute had gone by, and O'Rourke's lips were most definitely swollen and an angry red. His breathing was obviously ragged, and she looked around the room. None of Arthur's research had revealed an allergy, but she was almost expecting an EpiPen to magically appear within arm's reach.

But no, this was reality. Things like that only happened in dreams.

Arthur woke, a frown immediately creasing his forehead. "What is it?"

"He's allergic," Ariadne said, pointing to O'Rourke. "Is it going to kill him?"

Eames stirred and looked around with bleary eyes. "That was a nasty drop," he muttered, shaking his head. That tended to happen with sudden exits. His gaze sharpened when he took in Ariadne's pale face and frightened expression. Arthur had his lips pressed tightly together. "Damage control?" he asked, tension evident in his voice.

"Anaphylactic shock. I don't usually keep epinephrine in the PASIV," Arthur said, voice clipped.

"So now what?" Ariadne asked. She'd never dealt with something like this before, and didn't know what to do other than bring O'Rourke to a hospital, which wasn't an option.

"I'll go see if there's something we can use..." Arthur began, heading to O'Rourke's bathroom. A moment later she could hear him banging about in the medicine cabinet, nearly growling in frustration. "Not even a Panadol Night," he reported, coming out into the bedroom. "I know he doesn't see a doctor regularly, but this is fucking ridiculous."

"Right, then," Eames said with a sigh. "Somnacin breaks down quickly, at least. He'll have a wicked hangover and maybe if he's a good boy will swear off the drink."

"He isn't a good boy," Ariadne said, her voice high and nearly hysterical. "That's why we're here digging shit out of his brain."

Eames spun to face her, concern etched on his features. "Breathe, darling. It's not a disaster yet."

Arthur was already unhooking O'Rourke from the PASIV and discarding the used needles in its sharps container. "Pack up, wipe everything down."

Ariadne hadn't touched anything in the bedroom, but had kept track of where Arthur and Eames had been. She used a microfiber cloth to rub at the surfaces, marring any potential fingerprints they might have made. Eames lifted O'Rourke a bit and thumped him roughly on the back to try to help him breathe easier.

The PASIV was packed up neatly and they were ready to go; Eames hadn't been able to get any bank codes but Arthur possibly obtained the routing numbers for which banks that O'Rourke may have hidden his accounts. That would have to do for their employers, but Ariadne couldn't help but worry about it. What else could go wrong?

She shouldn't have thought that. O'Rourke's boyfriend returned to the house, a bottle of rum in hand and his shirt completely undone. "Oi. Who are you lot?" he asked, voice slurred and eyes starting to widen almost comically. "What's he doing with Roger?"

Arthur started toward Charlie, but he swung the bottle at Arthur's head once he realized that Arthur didn't necessarily have good intentions toward him. Ariadne may have screeched a little, but Arthur didn't even flinch. He swept his left arm up, blocking the bottle's downward swing toward his head. Arthur's right hand shot out to hit Charlie in the throat. The bottle fell from his slack fingers, and Charlie gasped for breath as he backed up and grabbed at his throat. Arthur followed in closely, hands loose and ready to attack if necessary. Charlie didn't seem to grasp that concept, though. He reached behind him to the dresser and grabbed one of the metal objets d'art that Ariadne hadn't paid much attention to. It was heavy and sharp, and he swung it at Arthur's head.

Anticipating that, Arthur ducked under his arm and hit him in the solar plexus. Eames had left O'Rourke on the bed at this point, approaching the scuffling men. Ariadne squeaked when Charlie swung the sculpture toward Eames, but Arthur made a sharp upper cut to his jaw. It allowed Eames to grab his wrist and wrest the sculpture from him. "Just stop," Arthur was saying, frustration evident.

"Listen," Eames began, trying a conciliatory tone.

Charlie wasn't having it. He rushed toward Eames after pushing Arthur in Ariadne's direction. She was able to keep Arthur upright, and shrieked at Charlie to stop attacking them. He ignored her, not noticing the sculpture still in Eames' hand or the bottle of rum on the floor, and he stepped on it. That upset his balance, tipping him forward.

Right into the sharp, extended end of the sculpture.

Ariadne covered her mouth with her hands and watched as Charlie staggered off to the side, crashing into the bed. "Jesus," she muttered, terrified of what would happen. O'Rourke was in shock from the somnacin and now his boyfriend had a sculpture sticking out his chest. What were they supposed to do about this?

Eames knelt at Charlie's side, sighing. "There are better things to do than rush in and be a complete fool," he said. Charlie scuttled backward from him, eyes glazed with pain. He fetched up against the bed, and grasped at the sculpture. At the rasping sound he made, Eames frowned and looked over at Arthur. "I think it punctured a lung."

"He hasn't got long, then," Arthur replied, looking around the room and taking stock of the damage done in the scuffle. He took the microfiber from Ariadne's pocket and used it to remove the sculpture from Charlie's chest. There was a slick sucking sound, and Charlie gurgled a bit, eyes wildly going from Arthur to Eames.

"Thinking of helping him on his way?" Eames asked, voice without inflection.

Ariadne made a soft, horrified sound. She already felt helpless, as if she was a 70's horror movie heroine. "Surely he can get better from that? There's people who live with only one lung..."

Turning toward her, Eames gave her a curious look. "He's seen us, darling. We can't have that."

"His lung is collapsing," Arthur said, beginning to wipe down the sculpture where Eames had grasped it. "That's the sound you hear. He could possibly survive it, yes," he said, looking from the sculpture to Ariadne's stricken expression. "Do you plan to go to prison for this?"

"There has to be _something_ we could do instead..."

Eames shook his head and reached into his jacket. "I'll do it."

Dumbfounded, Ariadne watched Eames take out his USP Compact and thread a suppressor onto the end. He looked at her and then at Arthur meaningfully. "Start the contingency plans, eh?"

"No, I'm not leaving," she insisted. If he could do this, she would have to be able to stand there and watch. She wasn't about to stop him, and she would have to live with knowing about the dark underbelly of dream share.

Arthur slid his hand along her back. "You don't have to stay."

"If you're here, I'm here," she insisted stubbornly.

The gunshot was nothing more than a hiss of air.

Ariadne watched in horror as Arthur helped Eames wrap up the body for disposal. Arthur found a canvas garment bag, but Charlie was far too tall to fit into it neatly. They used one of his belts to tie the bag shut around his legs, and Ariadne busied herself with scrubbing the blood stains from the floor boards. She refused to think about how it got there, how everything had spiraled out of control so quickly.

"Same exit route," Eames said, looking down at the body with his hands on his hips. It wasn't the same cocksure swagger she was used to seeing. "No guards down by the service entrance, so I can haul him out that way." He looked at Ariadne's drawn expression. "I suggest you return to Paris. Keep your head down. You were never here under your own name, after all. No one will think you're involved with this."

"I..."

"You can stay with me," Arthur suggested. "You know where to go, and you'll just have a head start there." He nodded briefly in Eames' direction. "He'll dispose of the body, and I'll meet with our employer. I'll be a day behind you at most."

She felt as if she was falling, drowning in uncertainty. The walls in the room refused to budge, damn this. She was still stuck in reality, and sooner or later would have to cope with the fallout of this job. "Eames... On your own, though..."

He chuckled slightly and then bent down to pick up the limp body in the bag. "It's touching that you worry about me so much. I'll be all right. I'll lie low for a bit, and I suggest you two do the same. If we split up, it'll be that much harder to find us or link us all together. We'll search each other out when it's safe to do so."

Ariadne bit her lip, unable to hide the worry. There was so much she wanted to say, but it felt as if she couldn't push it out in a coherent manner. _I'm sorry,_ she wanted to say, but there was no logical sense to that. Instead, she quickly went to him and pulled him down for a quick kiss on the lips. "You take care of yourself. Promise me you will. I will never forgive you if something happens to you."

Eames slid his free arm around her shoulder. "Always, my darling girl. You're a priority, you realize. I'll make sure we meet again."

She tried not to feel like her heart was breaking when they all went separate ways.

***

Ariadne had three keys on her key ring: her apartment in Paris, Arthur's main safe house in Bonn and Eames' apartment in Mombasa. Arthur didn't have an actual home; he had been on the run with Cobb for nearly three years by the time the Fischer job had begun, and he had maintained the small home in Bonn from a distance as best as he could. It had been his intention to make it a home, and he had an impish smile when he offered it to Ariadne before Eames had showed up in her apartment. "You're just about done with school, and you can do anything you want. There's an entire house that you can make over however you like. If you want to."

Putting the key on her key ring was her answer, but she had grinned up at him and said it in words anyway. "I absolutely want to. I love you, Arthur."

It had been the first time she had said the words aloud and meant it, and Arthur grinned before moving down to kiss her. "I know."

"And?" she prompted in a teasing tone when the kiss ended.

"I love you, too," Arthur murmured in a similarly teasing tone, moving in for another kiss. He had wrapped his arms around her before moving it to the bedroom. He had left on a job hunt two days later, right before Eames had arrived.

It was to this house that Ariadne had gone to, not her Paris apartment. She threw open the windows the air out the house and took a good look around the place. It had an open concept layout for the ground floor, with nondescript but tasteful furniture that looked like it was selected en masse from an Ikea catalogue. It worked with the plain white walls and generic prints framed in black, but gave absolutely no hint of personality. There was no sense of Arthur here, in keeping with the fact that he rarely got a chance to visit it.

Ariadne thought of the massive furniture and metal sculptures all over O'Rourke's home and then winced. While it fit the businessman's personality, she couldn't have anything remotely similar here. Just thinking about it made her remember Charlie, eyes wide and bleeding wounds in his chest before the garment bag had been tied around his lifeless body. She could hear the sound of the suppressed bullet, the thud of his head against O'Rourke's bed.

She felt sick, her gorge ready to rise. She stumbled to a bathroom and vomited bile; she had been too nervous to eat much prior to arriving in Bonn.

The house was piteously empty of anything making it resemble a home. There was no food stocked and very little to clean up some of the dust. The next several hours went by in a flurry of activity, buying food she didn't really want to eat and scrubbing down every surface she could think of. _Arthur's coming home soon,_ she kept thinking, deliberately trying to distract herself from memories of Charlie's death. When the house was as clean as she could make it, she turned to sketching ideas for each room of the house. Draft work was methodical and comforting, something she could do almost as a meditation.

Ariadne cried herself to sleep alone in Arthur's bed that night, worrying herself sick about him and Eames. While he had said he was at most a day behind her, it was _Arthur._ He was scarily efficient and ruthless when he had to be, and she never truly believed that it would take him that long to deal with their employers. Her mind spun in useless circles, imagining them shooting Arthur to cover their tracks. Or perhaps O'Rourke somehow knew who he was and got even with him for Charlie's death. Or someone saw Eames getting rid of the body and traced him back to O'Rourke's home, and from there tracked down Arthur. Or...

She startled awake when there was a noisy crash near the bedroom door, something like the sound of a bag being tossed aside. She had no weapons other than her fists, but the shape in the dim light was far too familiar for her to strike at. Though she knew she was in reality, she pulled at the corners of the room, just in case.

Thankfully, they held fast.

Launching herself forward, she clutched the exhausted Arthur tightly. "Thank God, you made it back home safely."

He touched her arms around his chest gingerly, leaning backward into her a little. The way he moved spoke of a physical ache as well as mental weariness; she wondered if he had gotten into a fight or two after all. "I told you I'd get back to you." He turned to look at her, lips quirked into a smile. "You didn't have to worry about me."

Squeezing him tightly, Ariadne buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Of course I worry about you. I will always worry about you. I love you. And after this job..."

Arthur sighed and turned around, forcing her to release him and look at him. It was too dark to see his expression accurately, but she was sure it wasn't pity there. "You've seen the best and worst that dream share has to offer," he told her gently. "Inception is like the Holy Grail to the field, and you helped make it happen. No one got hurt topside and even the damage done inside of the dream was fixed by the time we all woke up. That is the best case scenario. And then what happened in Dublin was the worst case. The extraction was botched because of the allergy, the death, having to escape that way..." He shook his head ruefully. "It was a clusterfuck as far as jobs go, but they usually don't end up this way. Usually you plan well enough to go in, get what you need, get out. No one is the wiser, and then we get paid."

It was the challenge of the planning and mental acrobatics involved that Arthur loved. The money just meant that he could wait for jobs rather than scrounge around in the seedy underbelly of the world. So few legitimate jobs gave him the same thrill of the chase as dream share did, and Ariadne had to admit, that thrill was infectious.

"Is that supposed to be a warning?" she asked, a warble in her voice she hadn't wanted to hear.

"You need to know what you're getting into."

"I want to build," she said, hearing the plaintive note to her voice. The rest of it could go hang. Maybe she simply wouldn't go into the field again, and would be more like Yusuf. Players in dream share could visit her for their maps and mazes, and she would have limited risk.

She could see Arthur smile, shadows shifting around his face. "I know. Watching your dreams come to life is amazing. It was beautiful in there once it was populated, you know. I'm selfish enough to want you to stay just for that."

"I can stay behind. I don't have to go with you when the extracting is done."

Arthur nodded. "There would be less risk to you that way."

"You can figure out something, I'm sure of it."

Challenge accepted, if the lift of his chin was any indication. "Likely," he agreed before nodding at her. He dropped a kiss onto her forehead. "Let's go to bed."

"I'm not exactly in the mood right now," Ariadne began with a sigh.

Arthur laughed gently and shook his head. "Just sleep now. There's time enough for that in the morning, when we're rested and can really enjoy it."

That was the best idea Ariadne had heard in a while. Exhausted, the two of them cuddled close in the bed and slept.

Neither had natural dreams.

***  
***


	4. Cruel Happiness

Following the Dublin debacle, Ariadne and Arthur stayed in Bonn. Eames left a text message on Ariadne's phone indicating he was safe; Arthur had destroyed his sim card before leaving Dublin so there was no way for Eames to contact him yet. Eames didn't know about the Bonn house, and Ariadne felt almost disloyal in keeping it a secret. Still, it was Arthur's home, and he would have to be the one to share its location if he wanted to. She understood that he was still a bit reticent around the forger, though his tangled emotions were still as clear as day to her.

"I can get us a job, probably," Arthur told her after a week. The dining room and living area had been rearranged so that Ariadne could paint the walls in muted colors. He had meant it when he told her to redecorate as she saw fit, but she couldn't quite bring herself to change over all of the furniture yet. Painting the walls had seemed like a compromise to her.

"You don't think it's too soon?"

"As far as the community is concerned, we completed the job satisfactorily. The men that hired me got what they wanted. Probably not as much detail as they wanted, but they wanted the financial data, and paid me for it. I can get something small for us to work with, so you can see what the usual jobs are like."

"A palate cleanser, so to speak?" Ariadne said with a faint smile.

"Exactly," Arthur replied, his answering smile one of approval.

Into the breach once more, then. Though this time, Ariadne firmly insisted that she was not going to go into the field. She didn't feel comfortable around firearms or dead bodies, and even if the risk of that happening again was low, she didn't want to encounter it again. Arthur understood, and found a different extractor and watchman to work with. Her part in the entire planning was short and sweet, and she spent her time gleefully planning an elaborate skyline for Arthur to dream up during the job. Via text, Eames congratulated her on the job and mentioned he was looking into one of his own.

_We should meet soon, darling. Have you ever visited the tropics?_

Arthur rolled his eyes when he saw the text message she showed him. "Don't tell me you want to go visit him already. Insatiable wench," he teased.

Ariadne laughed, shaking her head. "Don't tell me you don't miss the teasing."

"Actually, I don't," Arthur replied in a lofty tone. "They're professionals."

"Deadly dull, you mean," Ariadne said with a laugh.

"Yes, that, too," he agreed, grinning at her. "The job will likely take two or three weeks. You can wait that long and we'll go together, all right? I've been to Mombasa once before."

"How'd you know where he lives?"

"Rumors abound," Arthur said dryly. "No doubt started by Mr. Eames himself."

Ariadne was brimming with excitement, and decided to book the flight to Mombasa ahead of schedule. Arthur would be stuck finishing off his current job before he would join her, and he laughed at her enthusiasm. "Oh, fine, leave me here with these boring idiots. I see how it is," he teased, pulling her close for a kiss. She deepened it automatically, practically clinging to him like a second skin. "Okay. That's better."

"Your ticket's all set," she told him, gently nipping his lower lip with her teeth. "I've never been to Mombasa before. I'll get the boring touristy bits out of the way before you arrive."

"If you ever leave his bedroom," Arthur remarked dryly.

Snorting, Ariadne tightened her grip around him. "Don't be jealous. I love you, Arthur."

He picked her up off the floor a little, bringing her to eye level. His smile was wide enough to make his eyes crinkle and cheeks dimple. Ariadne loved that smile, and couldn't help but return that grin. "I know." Arthur dropped a kiss onto the tip of her nose. "I love you, too."

Arthur dropped her off at the airport and she slept through most of the flight. She wondered briefly if she should worry about not having any dreams, but brushed it off. Her nap wasn't that long or deep, and usually it took years of somnacin exposure before people stopped dreaming naturally. She had only been at it for months, though her exposure was nearly constant. Natural dreams didn't matter, anyway. It was the heightened clarity of dream share dreams that she wanted, and the dazzling landscapes and cityscapes she could build within them. Having Arthur and Eames in her life was as necessary as dreaming or breathing at this point, and the travel to cities she had only fantasized about as a girl was a bonus.

She knew where Eames lived, and had the taxi cab driver drop her off a few blocks away. At this point she knew how to double back on her route and walk in a more circuitous way toward her final destination. As much as she didn't know Mombasa at all, the winding streets had a familiar feel to them. Eames likely had pulled the city's layout into one of his training exercise dreams, because she was able to maneuver like a resident, weaving in and out of the narrow alleys with her head up high. Ariadne always carried his key with her, and she let herself in with a smile on her face. It would be a delightful surprise to have her simply show up, then Arthur's arrival the next day would be icing on the cake.

Ariadne stopped short at the doorway to his bedroom. Eames was sprawled in bed, an arm flung up near his head, a snub nose pistol inches away from his head. Curled up around his chest was a slim woman, his other arm cradling her shoulders. It was obvious neither were dressed beneath the thin sheet covering them, and they had fallen asleep after sex.

A sharp pain in her arm made Ariadne realize she had staggered into the door frame, her legs nearly crumpling beneath her. Her throat was constricted tight, and she struggled to draw breath. It felt like she was drowning, that she would never come up for air, and she didn't know which way to kick up to the surface.

Pulling the room apart by sheer force of will didn't work. Twisting the bed into looping shapes didn't work. The apartment building wasn't crashing down around her, and her bishop still weighed heavily in her pocket.

She wasn't dreaming, she was painfully awake.

Ariadne must have made a noise; Eames jerked awake and grasped the pistol, swinging it in her direction before he was even fully awake. He relaxed and smiled as soon as he saw her, putting the pistol down. "Ariadne, love," he purred, only briefly glancing down at the woman whose sleep he had disrupted. With a fond snort, he eased out of the bed and came to Ariadne. Before she could even draw a breath, he picked her up in a tight hug. "What a wonderful surprise."

"Is it?" she managed to gasp, seeing the woman yawn and stretch on the bed. God, did she have to be so curvaceous? It almost looked like Eames had borrowed some of her features for one of his female forges.

"Of course," he said, still grinning as he put her down. His reaction seemed genuine enough, but Ariadne wanted to collapse and sink through the floor. How stupid and desperate did she look just then? How much of an idiot could she be?

Eames turned and looked at the woman on the bed. "Oh. That's Katherine. She's an extractor. I don't think the two of you have met."

Katherine sat up, dragging the sheet over her chest for a modicum of decency. She mussed her already messy hair, trying to get it into a semblance of order. "No, don't think so. You must be Ariadne, yes? I'd remember you if we met before, you're cute. That must really bring out those chivalric instincts in those big, burly men, doesn't it?" she asked with a laugh, the edge of a South African accent to her vowels. "I'm Katherine," she said with a smile and a little wave, not self conscious in the least. "With a K. No Katie or Kate or Kathy or anything cute like that. Just Katherine, thanks."

"Um. Yeah, okay," Ariadne mumbled, still feeling wobbly and uncertain.

Wriggling across the bed, Katherine kept the sheet wrapped around her and yanked it off the bed when she stood up. She wrapped it around herself like a toga, grinning at the two of them. She picked up Eames' boxers. "Here, put your pants on and go entertain your friend, yeah? I can shower first and then pull some clothes on."

Eames merely laughed as he caught the boxers with one hand, the other firmly around Ariadne's shoulders. "Don't take all the hot water. Just because it's beastly hot here doesn't mean I like freezing cold showers."

Katherine rolled her eyes as she collected her clothes from where they were strewn around the room. "Drama queen, you are," she teased, grinning at him. She turned to Ariadne, the smile still on her face. "Don't mind that idiot there. He's all about the showmanship."

"You wound me," Eames returned, mockingly drawing his hand to his chest as if wounded. He still had his boxers in that fist, which Ariadne found distracting. "Perhaps I should have let Mako snatch you up on that job, then?"

She snorted and pointed her finger at his chest. "I'm more valuable to you alive, and you know it. He'd rather carve into me and leave my carcass in the desert to rot. I should just put a price on his head and be done with it." Ariadne ducked out of the doorway as Katherine approached, allowing her to pass through to the bathroom.

Ariadne looked at Katherine's back and then back at Eames. Her lungs simply couldn't draw breath, and she still had the feeling that she was out of her depth. Either Eames didn't notice, or he was blithely ignoring it. She couldn't tell which it was, which only increased her anxiety. He simply slipped the boxers back on and drew her into his living room. "Do you need a drink? You look peaky. Is Arthur about? Or still on his job?"

It sounded like the same Eames she thought she knew. It sounded like he cared about her and Arthur, that he meant he always wanted them around. He _looked_ like himself, not guilty in the slightest for having another woman in his bed. Hell, he'd even told Katherine about her, likely about Arthur, too.

"I went ahead," Ariadne said, feeling as though her voice was distant somehow. "I doubled back and went around... No one followed me, but I thought I should..."

He didn't seem to think her faltering statements were out of place. If anything, Eames merely laughed as he went into the kitchen. "Fantastic. You've definitely taken to the lessons of real world caution well, then. I knew I didn't misplace my trust in giving you that key." He poured her iced tea with that wide, lovely grin on his face. Ariadne's gut twisted at the sight of it, and she thought her hands were shaking as she took the glass. "Katherine doesn't even have the key, you know. Just you."

It wasn't love, not the way she thought it was. He didn't see the way there were tremors in her hands, that she was devastated by him being with someone else. Now she understood why he had blithely charged into a relationship with her and Arthur. It wasn't a relationship, not the way she thought of one. This wasn't what Arthur would accept, either. It was one thing to have a tangled relationship between three people that all cared about each other and loved each other. It was another to have one of the three looser with his affections.

Okay, that wasn't fair either. But Eames didn't think they had something exclusive, had likely never thought about how deeply Ariadne and Arthur would have come to love him. It simply didn't occur to him that they had different thoughts about what they were doing.

Ariadne finished the iced tea, not tasting anything. "How did you meet her?" she asked, voice strangled. It felt stupid, making small talk while her emotions were such a riot, but he simply shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal.

"There was a job a number of years ago. She was the extractor, they needed a forger to go into a subject's mind a second time. Someone completely fucked up the first go around, I think it was the point man, personally. Needless to say, it wasn't Arthur. Anyway, that went well, so we've worked together a few times."

"And Mako?" Ariadne asked, her voice sounding more even and like herself. Something in her was breaking at the thought that Eames couldn't see her distress, that he didn't know her as well as she thought he did, or that it didn't even bother him that she was upset by Katherine's presence in his life.

"Oh, him," Eames said with a dismissive wave, laughing as he poured her another glass of iced tea. "Mako rather took exception to her beating him out on a few bids two or three years ago, something like that. He's a sulky bastard, don't ever work with him."

"Okay," Ariadne said, more for something to say. He was looking at her so intently, earnest in his admonition about this Mako character. She wanted to think he loved her, this was his way of showing it, he didn't know how else to go about it. But that was wishful thinking; Eames did care about her wellbeing, but it wasn't the same kind of love that she felt for him.

That made Eames relax, and he smiled as he handed her the other glass of iced tea. "I'm glad you're here, darling," he said, voice low and sultry. He let her drink the glass before putting it aside for her and pulling her down into his lap. "I missed you."

"Somehow I doubt that," she replied dryly, a little hurt creeping into her voice before she could stop it.

Eames laughed, shaking his head. "It's _Katherine._ It is what it is."

Ariadne heard the water shut off in the bathroom and sealed her lips shut so she wouldn't say anything snarky about someone she didn't even know. She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, shutting her eyes and letting the rumble of his voice wash over her as he talked about all his favorite haunts in the city. She wished she could just revel in the feel of him, clinging to her sad little fantasies of "hi, honey, I missed you!" sex and plotting ways to welcome Arthur to Mombasa. There was no graceful way to say she wanted to run back to Arthur, who at least returned her feelings the same way.

"Oh, you two are _adorable,"_ Katherine said from the doorway, sundress clinging to slightly damp skin as she toweled off her hair. "I think it's because you're like a doll," she told Ariadne with a kindly smile. In contrast, Katherine was as tall as Arthur and built like a 1950's pinup. She nodded in the direction of the bathroom. "Your turn, Eames."

With a smile, Eames gave Ariadne a fond kiss on the forehead before sliding her off of his lap. He teasingly shook his ass as he left the kitchen, making Katherine laugh and swat it with the towel. He laughed on the way to the bathroom, and Katherine draped the damp towel on the back of the chair Eames had just vacated. She looked at Ariadne closely, head tilted to the side. After a moment, her expression softened. "Oh, honey. You _love_ him."

While she thought of denying it, there was really no point. Ariadne merely lifted her chin a notch and tried to stand taller. "I'm not the only one."

"I don't love him," Katherine said, blinking in surprise. "Is that what you think?"

She had been referring to Arthur, but she kept her mouth shut. In this business, secrets were guarded jealously and dispensed sparingly. It was too late to guard her heart against an extractor discovering its secrets, but she could spare Arthur's dignity as best as she could.

Katherine shook her head, lips curled into a sad smile. "He said you were new to this life, not long out of school." She moved to the iced tea pitcher that Eames hadn't put away and rummaged in his cupboards for another glass. Some part of Ariadne was gratified that she didn't know where they were kept, that she wasn't _that_ good a friend of Eames'.

She paused after pouring herself a glass of the iced tea. "You can't afford attachments like that in this world, Ariadne. I can tell you that, even if it should be obvious. Sooner or later, it cuts you deeper than any knife, buries you under its own weight. Feelings are a liability most of the time, and love itself is merely suicide."

Whatever dim hope she might have had about Eames loving her back as deeply as she loved him died just then. While this was _Katherine_ discussing emotions with her and not Eames, he was embedded in that life the same way Katherine was. He had to feel the same way about it; he had never said he loved Ariadne, never said he loved Arthur. He cared about them, he liked them, he trusted them. Perhaps that was more important, but it wasn't the same. She stubbornly clung to that one thought. Whatever he felt, it was genuine but it wasn't the same.

Disappointment was just as crushing as a physical attack.

Katherine sipped the tea slowly. "I'm sorry if I'm the first to tell you this," she said, meaning it. "I suppose you had to learn that lesson, though. Better now, when it's not your life on the line."

Or his, but Katherine didn't have to say the words.

"I suppose I should thank you," Ariadne replied somewhat stiffly. She wanted to run out the front door, call Arthur, cancel his plane tickets and book her return flight home. She had the impulse to scream and cry, carrying on like a fitful child. Dear God, _Arthur._ If she was devastated like this now, how would he feel?

Finishing her tea, Katherine put her glass down on the counter beside Ariadne's empty one. "Should I go, leave you two alone? I wasn't planning to stay long anyway, so it's not breaking any plans if I leave early."

She was being nice enough that Ariadne almost felt guilty for hating her. Almost.

"I arrived unannounced. I can leave." Ariadne pasted a smile on her face. "I wanted to see some of the touristy sites around here anyway."

The look on Katherine's face was pure pity, but she didn't say anything for a moment. "Your choice," she said finally. "He's good at what he does, and he can put on a good show. The bloke cares about others to a point, but not the type to love. None of us in this business are. You have to protect yourself, however you can. Love isn't enough to save you from what's out there. If you rely on that, might as well put a bullet in your head now."

Ariadne was glad she wasn't launching herself bodily at Katherine or running screaming out the front door. She still had that urge to dissolve into a puddle of tears and wallow in self pity, mourning the love she couldn't get from Eames. There was no way to make this right, was there? She was out of her depth, drowning before she even realized how far in she had gone. 

The water shut off in the bathroom, and Ariadne swallowed down whatever she might have said to Katherine. She turned and started washing the glasses in the sink to give herself something to do. It was an excuse not to look at the extractor, not to compare how self confident she seemed to be, how she could handle casual affairs with such aplomb.

Katherine shrugged and picked up the towel before leaving the kitchen. Ariadne took her time in washing the glasses, but they were done quickly. She lingered uselessly, hearing the murmuring of voices in the hallway. Katherine reappeared, sailing through the living room with her strappy sandals on and a purse in hand. "Never a dull moment with you, Eames," she was saying with a smile on her face. "Keep in touch."

"Of course," he said with a smile. His hand lingered on her arm before he opened the door, but there was no kiss farewell. That had to mean something, right?

Eames went to the doorway to the kitchen, that half smile still on his face. "Katherine said there was a misunderstanding to clear up."

"Of course she did," Ariadne muttered, shaking her head. Her throat closed up again, an aching pain there that usually came when she started to cry. What use was there in trying to pin down what Eames felt? It wasn't the same for him. She mattered, Arthur mattered, but it wasn't the same thing as the desperate, soul-searing love she had.

He approached slowly, perhaps sensing that something was off about her now. She could feel his gaze, heavy and concerned, almost like an uncomfortable itch along her spine. His hand came to rest on her arm, touch gentle and supportive even though it was clear that he didn't know what was wrong. "What did she say to you?" he asked. His voice was neutral, but somehow she could tell that he was angry with Katherine.

"She just pointed out what I was too blind to see," Ariadne said finally, syllables like ashes in her mouth. "I didn't _want_ to see it," she corrected, shaking her head and not looking up at Eames. "I was too caught up in everything. Everything we did together, it was new and fun and a distraction, right? I wanted it to mean what I wanted it to mean..."

Eames pulled over one of the chairs from his narrow table and sat down so he could be at eye level with her, though Ariadne refused to look at him. "Ariadne. Look at me."

He waited until she finally caved and looked at him, her throat closed tightly and eyes brimming with unshed tears. She wanted to say something, anything, wanted to deny that this was affecting her as much as it obviously was. Eames reached out and cupped her face in his hands, thumbs grazing her lower lip. His expression was soft, pained, and Ariadne felt her gut twist agonizingly at the thought that she was hurting him somehow. Never mind her own heart had already shattered, never mind she had fooled herself into thinking this could work out the way she had dreamed it would. She couldn't bring herself to hate Eames, even if he couldn't love her back the same way. He had never lied about his feelings, never lied about his intentions.

"You love me," he murmured softly. "And not only that, you're in love with me."

"Yes," she whispered, voice cracking.

"I'm not a good man, Ariadne. I've never been one, really."

"I know. I love you anyway."

Without another word, Eames pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, drowning in the scent of his soap and his skin. He simply held her, and Ariadne broke down in tears.

"I'm sorry," he murmured when her tears slowed. He stroked her hair, holding her shaking shoulders tight against him.

"Me, too."

"And Arthur...?"

"Yeah."

"Ah." Eames blew out a breath and turned to press a kiss to her temple.

There was nothing to say about it, was there? She had been happy, and her happiness hadn't been built on reality. It was nothing more than a dream, and even she knew that those dissolved as soon as the dreamer woke up.

"I never meant to hurt either of you. I care deeply for you, darling. Arthur's fun when he's not being a stick in the mud. I don't... I can't... I'm not who you want me to be," Eames said, settling on that phrasing after a moment. "I can be any number of people in and out of a dream, but I can't be who you need."

"And if I only need you to be who you are?"

Eames sighed and pulled her tight against him. "Don't let me destroy you, darling. You're a bright, rising star in this world. Staying with me will sour you over time."

"You're so certain of that..."

"I may not love you the way you love me, but I'm not that much of a bastard that I'd drown you in my wake. You will, if you stay with me for too long. I'm no hero, Ariadne. I don't want you hurt, but I'm not the kind to stay still. I'm not the kind to build things up. That's your forte, and it's not just dreams that you can build."

"Then can't I build this?" she asked, pulling out of his embrace.

"Ariadne," he began in a gentle voice, "you can't rebuild me. You can't turn me inside out and make me over into someone else. There isn't enough of a foundation here to work with. That's why I'm such an excellent forger. There isn't too much beneath the surface if you try to dive down deep."

"I refuse to believe that. If you were really that shallow, you wouldn't be warning me away from you. I wouldn't have fallen for you. _Arthur_ wouldn't have fallen for you. Neither of us are so fickle that we'd walk away from someone we care about."

"But I am."

The quiet words carried the weight of truth, and that stopped her from yelling back at him. She remembered that he would have cut and run during the first level of the Fischer job. He had pulled the trigger in Dublin without remorse and hauled the body away.

Eames _wasn't_ a good man, and was honest with himself enough to know it. There was enough decency that he was trying to warn her away from him. Arthur likely wouldn't be as disappointed when he found out about this; he had been reluctant to begin anything with the forger in the first place. He would recover, and he would try to help Ariadne through. It would hurt her in the end if she stayed, if she tried to turn a blind eye to his faults. It would kill her, leaving her drowning in misery and regrets.

She blinked away tears but more fell. She felt weak and drained, but the world refused to twist and reshape, and no sinkhole opened up beneath her.

Ariadne startled when he gently brushed his fingers against her cheek. There was that tender, soulful expression on his face. He cared and loved her, he just wasn't in love with her. Maybe it was the best that he could do.

"I'll tell Arthur, darling. I'll take care of everything."

"I'm not leaving either of you," Ariadne said in a voice just as soft as his.

"No, I don't suppose you would."

She felt like a coward when she hid in his bedroom as he called Arthur. The door didn't quite hide the low rumble of his voice. "It seems I have something to tell you," Eames began without preamble. But then, he had been so direct in Dublin when the job went south, so why wouldn't he be just as direct here?

Crawling into Eames' side of the bed, she pressed her face into his pillow to inhale the scent of him. His gun was cold and heavy in her hand, unfamiliar and awkward to hold. He had been so comfortable with it, reaching for the pistol when startled out of sleep. Eames was dangerous, involved in even more dangerous things, and it was natural for him to grab a weapon in his own home when startled. He never really let down his guard, not like she or Arthur did.

Ariadne must have fallen asleep. The shadows in the room had shifted when she woke, and she couldn't even hear Eames' voice in the living room any longer. She got up, gun still loosely held in her hand. With her left, she shoved her hair out of the way, not even caring how wild and knotted it had to be.

Eames was sprawled on his couch in the living room with a book. The window was open, fresh air wafting in and dissipating the scent of smoke from the cigarettes he had lit. "Feeling better?" he asked, looking up from the book. The title looked to be in Dutch, if she had to guess at the language, and Ariadne wondered how much she really knew about him.

"Maybe. How long was I asleep?"

"About two hours," Eames said, looking at his watch.

Some creeping instinct had Ariadne try to shift the dimensions of the room. She pulled and pushed at the walls and ceiling, but they remained in place. Eames didn't seem to notice her gaze darting about the room, as he was putting a bookmark into the book and putting it aside, near the used ceramic ashtray. "Why did you let me sleep so long?" she asked, feeling out of sorts.

His eyes flicked to the gun still in her hand. "It seemed safer to," he replied, voice a little sad. He stood and crossed the distance between them easily. His large hands closed around hers, and he took the pistol from her easily. "And you needed the rest, really. You've had quite the shock this morning, and recovery time seemed in order."

"What did Arthur say?"

"He's still coming tomorrow."

"He is?" Ariadne asked, startled. She watched him put the pistol on top of his book, as if it was an everyday occurrence. For all she knew, it was.

"No reason not to, really," Eames replied, looking back at her. She couldn't read his expression, and wished for the time when she thought she could. "And there are things to discuss, after all," he continued when she remained silent, coming back to her side. When his hands fell to her shoulders, pulling her close to him, she didn't feel overwhelmed or afraid. There was still a thrill in her gut and the hope that he was going to walk her backward to his bedroom. At the same time, Ariadne wanted to kick herself for still wanting him, still loving him so fiercely.

Eames lifted her up into his arms as easily as he always did. "But we can do something today, if you like. Arthur said you'd wanted to see the city. I take you about Old Town, go to the casinos or markets, whatever you like."

It was tempting, but it still surprised her when she heard herself say "I'd love that."

Ariadne fell into the usual way she behaved around Eames that afternoon. He was solicitous of her needs and pointed out his favorite haunts in the city. She could almost believe that the morning discovery was a dream, that her heart hadn't been shredded in her chest. A quiet sigh escaped her lips as they sat down to dinner in Eames' favorite café. He looked at her curiously, asking her with only his expression what the problem was.

"Was this morning just a dream, then?" she asked, a thread of bitterness in her voice. "I know it was real," she added hastily, sighing again. "I tested reality, and it kept coming up real, no matter how much I didn't want it to be."

He blotted his lips with his napkin carefully, likely thinking of the right words to say. "I never promised you what I couldn't give."

"I know," she murmured, looking down at her dinner plate. Her appetite was gone, despite how delicious the food had been.

"But it could be a dream, you know." He gave her a thin, pained smile at her incredulous look. "Think of what we do, Ariadne. Think of all we've done, all that's capable of being done while we're in dreams. I have a PASIV back at my flat. It could all be a dream if you want it to be, or you could make sure you wake up and you don't love me."

 _"Don't you dare!"_ she snarled, pushing at his chest. Anger spiked through her; whatever else she endured, she would rather feel the agony of that morning a thousand times over than lose the past few months.

Eames let her push him around, then gently finger combed her hair flat. "Arthur didn't think you would want to do that, either. You'd rather feel everything, even if it killed you."

Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. "Did you discuss that with Arthur?"

Eames nodded. "He said everything had to be done with your knowledge and consent. He'd gut me if I ever tried to do anything as you slept." Eames snorted as Ariadne thought _Damn straight,_ shaking his head a little. "As if I would ever do such a thing to you."

At least she was exempt from the callous disregard he seemed to hold for most people. Ariadne was ridiculously heartened by having that kind of regard from him. "What did you think you would do? Take me down to limbo and tell me not to love you anymore?"

"Something like that. A bit more elegantly, perhaps, but it's a possibility. Then you wouldn't hurt as much as you do."

Warmth spread through her, something almost like hope. It was probably more like the burn a drowning swimmer felt from lack of oxygen, a deceptive sensation that could lull her to her doom. He might not be in love with them, but perhaps this was the only way he could really feel love for someone else. She had to hang onto that thought, no matter how desperate it sounded. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think that would work."

"Because you love me that deeply? I would think that emotion's for Arthur."

Was that jealousy? Ariadne could hope that it was, but there was no way she could really be sure without asking him, and he would never admit to it even if that was true. "Because you can't control what would happen with that suggestion. I could wake up hating you, or forgetting you ever mattered. I'd never work with you again. We'd never meet, never talk, never kiss or make love again. That isn't what you want."

"No," he admitted quietly. "But neither did I want you in pain because of me. I'm no hero, Ariadne, and I'll never be one."

"What did Arthur say, exactly?" she asked suddenly. She hadn't wanted to ask earlier, didn't want to think about how hurt or angry Arthur might be. "When you told him you weren't in love with us? What did he say to you?"

"He'd guessed," Eames replied, eyes never leaving her face. She could see the sincerity, and the fact that no earthquake rattled the café despite her urge to twist the place apart meant that this entire exchange was real.

Of course he guessed. Arthur knew far more about Eames than she did. Eames could be trusted on a job, keep secrets and was the very soul of discretion. But there was that measure of trust that Arthur simply hadn't been able to give Eames, so it wasn't a shock for him as it had been for Ariadne. She was the type to dive headlong into something without thinking of the consequences until it was far too late, but Arthur wasn't.

"There's nothing to be angry about, but I gather he was disappointed," Eames continued, sadness evident in his voice. "Nothing has to change if you don't want it to."

It went without saying that Arthur would follow her lead on this, as he had in getting involved with Eames in the first place.

"Nothing ever changed for you," Ariadne murmured.

"No, it didn't," he replied. "You need to decide what you want..." He leaned in to say something else, but their waiter came to check in on them, and the moment passed.

Neither restarted the conversation again, and Ariadne allowed herself to be pulled into his bed to sleep that night. He didn't do anything more than kiss and hold her, his heartbeat lulling her into an uneasy sleep.

She already knew what she wanted. She just wasn't going to get it.

***

Arthur arrived in Mombasa the next evening on schedule, a little tired looking but none the worse for wear. He had his usual faint smile for Eames, which broadened for Ariadne. He swept her up into his arms, holding her tightly and kissing her fiercely. "Are you all right?" he asked, leaning in close.

"I am now that you're here," Ariadne replied.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, his arms sliding down her back. She knew that touch meant he would support her no matter what she decided. But there was no decision to be made, really. She had decided months ago what she wanted, what she thought she needed. She didn't have what she wanted, but she had _something,_ and she wasn't about to let go of that.

"I love you, too," she said, squeezing him back tightly. Eames had hung back, giving them a respectful foot of space to greet each other. She turned toward him, a watery smile on her face. "I love both of you, God help me," she said, pulling him closer.

Eames' arms encircled Ariadne and Arthur, and she let out a soft sigh. He flashed them both his usual crookedly charming smile as he lifted his head. "Come on, then. We'll be all right. I have a number of places I wanted to show you, if you're still amenable. Let's head out."

She was being drawn further into their life, dragged down in their wake. As much as Eames had said he didn't want that to happen, she couldn't help herself. This was where he and Arthur belonged, so she would have to cherish these moments as they came. As bittersweet and razor-edged as they were, she preferred to hoard these memories than give them up.

Giving Arthur a kiss, she smiled at Eames then slid an arm around Arthur. "Yes, I'd like that."

She preferred to drown with her eyes wide open.

The End


End file.
